“He might be just a man,” Jade said. “But right now he’s giving us no choice. I’m not going to die in here.” She marched forward, over to the table on the platform. She picked up a pair of pliers and turned around to face the group. Her chest heaved in and out as she took several deep breaths.
Then she placed the pliers against her little finger and clamped down hard. She grunted, yanked and twisted, then let out a sharp yell as her manicured fingernail tore away from the sticky flesh of her nail bed.
She screamed. “SHIIIITTTBALLS! Wow…that hurt like a mother!”
“You need to pull two more,” said Alex, wincing as Jade held her bloody nail up in the nose of the pliers.
Jade took a few more deep breaths, seemed to mumble something under her breath, and then quickly clamped down on her engagement finger. She tore the nail free quickly and growled with the pain. A series of dry heaves took over her and she had to take deep breaths to keep from vomiting. She was sweating badly. Agony etched itself into the lines of her face.
The final nail Jade tore free was from her middle finger. She screamed again, louder than ever. It looked like she might pass out, but instead she put down the pliers and simply said, “I’m going to go get a drink.”
“JADE IS IMMUNE FROM THIS EVENING’S VOTE. CONGRATULATIONS, HOUSEMATE.”
“Bite me,” she said as she left the garden on wobbly legs.
Damien remained sitting on the floor with Jules. She was leaning up against him now and trembling.
“I’ll go next,” said Alex.
“I think I can do it, too,” said Richard. “Especially if a bird managed it.”
Damien watched as the two men got to work with the pliers. They hissed and cursed as they tore their nails loose from their fingertips. They immediately grew pale and looked near to passing out. If anything, the two men seemed to find the task much harder than Jade had. They were close to tears by the time they were done. Alex’s nose dripped snot and his eyes streamed tears.
“ALEX AND RICHARD ARE IMMUNE TO TONIGHT’S VOTE. CONGRATULATIONS.”
“Think that drink sounded like a good idea,” said Alex. “Come on, mate.”
The two of them went after Jade. The relief of the task being completed was clear on their faces. They could relax now, at least for the next twenty-four hours.
Damien looked around at the other remaining housemates. Lewis and Sarah and Tracey were in a huddle and discussing something between themselves. It didn’t seem like they had any intention of using the pliers. The same seemed true of Patrick, who walked off without a word and re-entered the house. Catherine went right behind him.
That just left Danni, Damien, and Jules. Danni looked down at Damien on the floor and smiled. “I’m with you. If I’m going to get tortured and killed, the last thing I’m going to do is make it easy for them.
“Oh, God,” said Jules. “They’re going to vote for me. I’m going to end up having to do something even worse, like Chris had to. I’m going to die.”
“Calm down,” said Damien. “We’re all going to stick together and get through this.”
Jules pulled away from him. “No, we’re not. The maximum number of people that can get through this thing alive is two – and that’s only if they split the prize money. There’re three of us here right now, so at least one of us – but probably all of us – is going to end up dead. I’m weak. I won’t make it.”
“Just calm down.”
Jules sprung to her feet. “No! I can’t go in a head to head elimination. I can’t!”
She ran over to the table and picked up a pair of pliers. Damien got to his feet and followed after her, although he kept his movement slow, not wishing to add to her panic.
“Get back,” she said, pointing the pliers at him. “I have to do this.”
Damien wanted to stop her, but he also knew that if she went through with it, she would be safe and, as such, would calm down.
Jules put the pliers against one of her fingernails and yanked. She screamed out in pain. The nail had torn in half with a shard still attached to her cuticle. Damien winced as she dived in again with the nose of the pliers and clamped down on the nail and a sliver of bleeding flesh. She yelled even louder this time, as she yanked a chunk of her nail bed out along with the nail. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she continued on. She looked up at the sky and screamed. “Is this what you want, you sick fuck?”
She yanked her pinkie nail free in one go. Then her engagement finger. Then her middle finger. Then her thumb nail.
“Hey, stop,” said Damien. “You’ve done it. Stop hurting yourself.”
Jules carried on ripping free her nails. She managed to take off her index fingernail by the time Damien made it over to her and tore the pliers free from her hand.
He pulled her in tight as she sobbed and bellowed in agony. She convulsed in his arms as the pain wracked her. Then her knees folded and she crumpled to the floor and vomited onto the grass.
“Okay,” said Damien. “It’s over now. You’re safe. You were strong and no one can vote for you. You were strong.”
Jules just sobbed.
The camera and the giant eyeball watched them with indifference.
Danni came over to them both and knelt down. She placed a hand on Damien’s back and rubbed up and down his spine. “She might be safe, but let’s just pray that no one votes for us tonight.”
Damien sighed. He didn’t believe in God, but right now he wished he did. Because praying felt like a good idea.
3
Damien retrieved his luggage, seeing as how Chris no longer had any claim over it. He swapped his jeans for a pair of tracksuit bottoms and swapped his button-up shirt for a warm hoodie that hid the collar around his neck. He felt far better and much readier for any physical challenges that might lie ahead. But he also felt unclean. It had been more than seventy-two hours since he’d last washed and there was nowhere, other than the house’s single toilet, where one could conduct any sort of personal hygiene. He considered using the sink in the kitchen or maybe trying to wash up in the hot tub if things got much worse – which invariably they would.
As he sat alone in the garden, Damien contemplated once again why he was in the situation he was in. Primarily it was because he had volunteered in order to win the prize money – which was still up for grabs by the sound of things – but he was also sure that none of the housemates were there by random chance. They had all been chosen for some reason.
The smart-suited gentleman that had visited Damien and Harry’s wood shop several weeks ago had obviously not been a ‘television producer’ looking for ‘ordinary people’ to compete in a game show. It was obvious now that Damien had been targeted and mislead. Whether or not that man posing as a producer knew how much Damien had needed the money was unclear. Perhaps it was just a grim coincidence. Perhaps not. Damien would not have even considered entering the house if circumstances were different.
The other housemates would probably all have similar stories of how they had been convinced to be there. He wondered if the man in the suit had been The Landlord, or just someone working for him.
The biggest question on Damien’s mind, however, was who would want him punished? Who would want to enact revenge against him? He had never killed anybody like Chris had, had never wrecked anybody’s life, at least to his knowledge.
Maybe those words beneath the silhouettes on the television screen are the answer.
He thought about some of those words now. Murderer – was that one meant to be Chris? No, the one beneath Chris said ‘Thug’.
So does that mean another one of the housemates is a murderer?
There were also the words Predator, Traitor, Peddler, and several others. Damien had no clue which word was meant to apply to him. None of them as far as he was concerned.
They must have the wrong guy. I shouldn’t be here.
“HOUSEMATES, PLEASE GATHER IN THE LIVING AREA.”
Here we go again.
; Damien went and joined the others inside. They had all assembled on the sofa. There was a thickness to the air that was equal parts unwashed sweat, cigarette smoke, and palpitating fear. Damien felt his own heart beating fast with anticipation.
One of us will likely be dead within the hour.
“HOUSEMATES, PLEASE VOTE FOR WHO YOU WISH TO PARTICIPATE IN TONIGHT’S HEAD TO HEAD ELIMINATION TASK. JADE, ALEX, JULES, AND RICHARD HAVE IMMUNITY AND CANNOT BE VOTED FOR.”
Once again, Jade started the voting. “Damien.”
“I vote Damien, too,” said Alex. He shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry.”
Damien rolled his eyes. Everybody seemed to be voting the same as they did yesterday. Nothing had happened for anybody to change their minds about anything.
“I vote…Sarah,” said Damien, picking pretty much at random. He didn’t want to condemn anybody to death.
“I vote Sarah, too,” said Danni.
“Why?” Sarah asked, apparently hurt.
Danni stared at her. “We haven’t been asked to give a reason, but it’s because you hang around with Lewis and whisper whisper whisper. I think you’re working on your own little game.”
“So are you,” Sarah rebuked. “I vote for you!”
“I vote for you too,” said Lewis.
Danni chuckled. “See? There’s my point.”
“I vote Damien,” said Tracey.
“I vote for Sarah,” said Jules. “Same reason as Danni.
Catherine surprised everybody by voting Lewis. She said they had nothing in common, which seemed like a pretty mundane reason considering the situation.
Patrick jumped on Jade and Alex’s bandwagon and voted, “Damien,” while Richard finished off with a vote for Lewis, same as last time. Again, he didn’t explain why.
“Hey, man,” said Lewis. “Why you always be voting for me?”
Richard shrugged his shoulders. “Because I like you least. Isn’t that the point?”
“But why don’t you like me?”
“Why do you care so much? We’re all strangers here.”
“HOUSEMATES, YOU HAVE VOTED. DAMIEN AND SARAH WILL COMPETE IN THE HEAD TO HEAD ELIMINATION TASK.”
“No!” Sarah screamed. “I won’t go in that room and play your evil games.” She suddenly bolted, dodging furniture as she sought a way out. She fled to the garden, scurried across the grass courtyard and leapt against the far wall, clawing at it as if she hoped to climb it through will power alone. The other housemates hurried out after her, calling out for her to calm down. As she jumped up at the wall, trying to drag her way up with her fingernails, her feet slipped out of her heels and left them strewn across the grass.
“Calm down, sweetheart,” said Lewis. He approached her from behind slowly. “You’re going to be okay.”
Sarah spun around and faced him. Her eyes were wide and feral, bleary with tears. “I’m not going to be okay. They have us locked up in here like animals in a slaughterhouse. If I go into that room to do the task, I won’t make it out again.”
“You don’t know that,” said Lewis. “You might be the winner. Damien might be the one who dies.”
Thanks, thought Damien.
“And you think that’s okay?” Sarah cried in disbelief. “What then? Even if I win, that won’t be the end of it. There’ll just be another vote. Who knows what sick, twisted games they have waiting for us. I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have a choice,” said Jade. “We’re playing for our lives here. If you give up then you’re dead for sure.”
“It’s okay for you, Jade. You’re a bitch. You won’t think twice about screwing someone over in order to win. I don’t have that in me.”
“Hey, fuck you,” said Jade. “I’m trying to help you. I won’t bother next time, but you’re going in that room whether you like it or not.”
“I will not!” Sarah turned back around and began scrabbling at the brickwork again.
Lewis reached out a hand to her. “Darling, there’s no way out of here.”
She spun around to face him again, only this time she shoved him aside and marched back across the courtyard. She re-entered the house with the other housemates in tow. No one knew what she was planning to do, but it held their rapt attention like an ensuing train wreck. They were all happy for her to try and escape, if only to see what happened.
Funny how everyone is content to be a spectator, until it’s their turn. Then they lose their minds. Nobody was panicking when it was me in there.
Sarah headed over to the kitchen. She was clutching at her mousy blonde hair with both hands and letting out a breathy moan. Madness had taken over her and with each second that passed she seemed to descend more and more into a mental abyss where any rational thought was absent.
She opened one of the kitchen drawers.
“What are you doing?” Damien asked, suddenly getting a bad feeling.
Sarah pulled out a curved knife and pointed it at the housemates. They all kept their distance behind the counter as she shouted at them. “Stay back,” she screamed. “Just stay back.”
“Hey,” said Danni. “Calm down, sweetheart. We’ll figure something out. I…I’ll take your place. Okay?”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Jade. “You’re talking about your life, Danni. You can’t volunteer to go in her place. This is a competition and she has to play by the rules.”
“I don’t care,” Danni said. “I’ve had enough of this.”
Tracey shrugged her shoulders. “Just let her. What difference does it make?”
Sarah laughed, but it was a hysterical, unhinged noise. “You hear that?” she shouted at the ceiling. “You here that, Mr-fucking-Landlord? She’s going to take my place. She’s going to do the task, so leave me alone.”
There was silence for a moment.
Then the speakers crackled.
“UNNACCEPTABLE, HOUSEMATE SARAH. YOU WERE VOTED FOR BY YOUR PEERS. YOU WILL PARTICIPATE IN THE TASK.”
“No, I won’t.” Snot and tears were now streaming down Sarah’s puffy face. The knife in her hand wobbled.
“Come on,” said Lewis. “Give me the knife, darling. We’ll figure something out.”
She shook her head at him and seemed finally to get a hold of herself. She took a deep breath and stopped shaking. “I won’t go in there,” she said in a slow whisper.
Then she ran the knife across her wrist below the steel bracelet.
Blood jetted down her arm and dripped in a steady stream from her fingertips. She stared at them all with a look of child-like wonder in her eyes. She almost seemed to smile for a moment. Perhaps she was glad to have made her own decision, instead of being forced into something she didn’t want to do.
Then her legs buckled.
Lewis tried to grab Sarah, but he wasn’t quick enough and she crumpled to the tiled floor. The rest of the housemates stood around in shock while she slowly bled to death on the kitchen floor.
4
On the television screen a silhouette changed to a picture of Sarah. Unlike the one taken of Chris this was a personal photo taken from a previous time. It was a photo where she was smiling. Beneath the silhouette was the word THIEF.
A video started playing.
A withered old lady appeared onscreen. She looked tired and frail, perhaps in her final year. When she spoke, her voice sounded like rustling leaves.
“When I met George, my best days were behind me. I was forty-nine years old and divorced. I didn’t think I would trust a man ever again. But when I met my George, I had no choice but to fall in love with him. He was a kind man, a funny man; worked hard every day of his life without a single complaint. I loved him from the start. I loved him completely. His daughter, though, that was another matter. She only came by when she wanted something – money usually. When I married her father she made no secret that she did not approve. She acted like her father was somehow betraying her mother, but the woman had been dead gone nine years – a tragic car accident, God bless her soul. Geo
rge still loved her of course – I never resented him for that – but he also loved me. He provided for me and made me happy. We had twelve wonderful years together.
Then he got cancer. Sixty-six years old with only a year to live. I cursed God for giving him to me for such a short while. I had wasted so much of my life before I met him, and now I was going to lose him. But I was thankful for the time we still had together.
We took a trip to Australia while he was still well enough and then came home to spend our last months together. I retired from work and spent every day with him. When the time finally came, he told me about his will, told me he was leaving everything to me and that I would be looked after. I forgot about it for a while, focused only on spending as much time as I could with my George. I was never interested in his money.
He lasted another week and then passed away in a fit of pain. I’ll never forget his last, agonising hours. It haunts me to this day.
I found the will a couple of weeks later amongst the things in his office. As he had said, it left everything to me, with the exception of a small sum which I was to give to his daughter, Sarah. Even though she had barely visited her father while he was ill, I was happy to honour my George’s wishes. I invited her to the house and went through the will with her. She was angry to receive so little. She said that I had forced him to sign it all away. She stormed up to the guest room in a huff and didn’t come back down again all night.
The next day the will was gone and so was Sarah. As I hadn’t married George – our previous failed marriages had been enough to jade us towards the institution – Sarah was able to contest my claim towards her father’s assets. She got everything apart from the house, which the court’s awarded to me after having lived there and paid bills for twelve years. George had left almost two-hundred thousand pounds to me, but it all ended up going to Sarah. She took it with a smug smile on her face the whole time, even though she knew that her father’s final wishes were being ignored.”
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